


Studying the Blade

by never_love_a_wild_thing



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 2018 Winter Olympics, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Olympics, Derek Has Feelings, Derek Has a Crush on Stiles, Figure Skater Derek, Figure Skater Stiles Stilinski, Ice Skating, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski are Siblings, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Derek, POV Stiles, almost everyone is a figure skater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-17 12:09:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/never_love_a_wild_thing/pseuds/never_love_a_wild_thing
Summary: Figure Skater Derek Hale is going to the Olympics for the last time. Age and an old injury are finally starting to get the better of him, but a number of fresh faces on Team USA, or maybe one face in particular are enough to keep him going.Stiles Stilinski and his sister Lydia are going to the Olympics for the first time. Between nerves and drama, he's worried that they may be in over their heads, but a veteran skater reluctantly takes them under his wing.In other words: leave it to Sterek to fall in love in the middle of the Olympic Games.*Note: currently being edited, but it should be completely finished soon





	1. Olympic Village

**Author's Note:**

> I am way to into the figure skating at the Olympics this year. (Actually, this happens every Winter Olympics). I pretty much love everyone on Team USA, so if Stiles and Lydia are giving you ShibSibs vibes in this fic, that's why ;)
> 
> Just so you know, I really don't know anything about Figure Skating or Ice Dancing aside from what my skater friends tell me and what I see on TV, so sorry for any mistakes or things that don't make sense. If you see anything that I should correct, though, please let me know! I want this to be as accurate as I can make it, but my background is in dance, not skating.
> 
> Also, I am going to try really hard to update every day (yikes!), which means that it won't be as polished as my writing usually is. I really want there to be more fics for people to read while watching the Olympics, though, so I think it will be worth it. (I will go back and edit more afterwards, when I'm not just rushing to get chapters out, but, again, let me know if you see mistakes so I can fix them).
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fic, and, as usual, I don't own or have any connection to Teen Wolf or the Olympics.
> 
> P.S. - the title is from an Adam Rippon tweet :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated as of 2/27/18

Stiles would be excited if he wasn’t so damn tired. They had been on the plane for about 12 hours already, and he had not slept nearly enough of them to be arriving in Seoul at 6am. Lydia, of course, was totally zonked out next to him, and had been nearly the entire time. Stiles was pretty sure that the Xanax had to have worn off by now, but Lydia had always been better at travelling than he was. He tried to stretch without elbowing either Scott or Lydia in the face but judging by the yawn-interrupted death-glare that Scott gave him, he was unsuccessful.

“Sorry, dude,” he grimaced, pulling out his headphones. His voice sounded far away in the stale air of the pane.

“It’s fine,” Scott shrugged, “I was awake anyways.”

“I can’t believe Lydia’s been asleep this whole time,” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“It’s impressive,” Scott agreed, “But at least she won’t be tired when we get there, right?”

Stiles groaned. He had been sitting in one place for much too long. “Whose idea was it to take a direct flight?” he asked, “I think my left butt cheek is asleep.”

Scott didn’t complain about Stiles talking about his butt, which Stiles took to mean that he agreed. “I think we’re almost there,” he said instead.

They looked up at the screens that were tracking their journey with a little animated plane drawing a red line across a topographical map. The ETA said half an hour. Too little time to settle, but too much time to get excited. Stiles groaned.

“Maybe you should try to get some more sleep,” Scott suggested, pulling up the screenshot of the rink schedule on his phone.

“We’re not set to practice until the afternoon,” Stiles told him, closing his eyes fruitlessly as he leaned his head back against the seat. He could totally sleep some more.

“Lucky,” Scott grumbled next to him, “I have to practice at 8:30. I don’t even know if we’ll be there in time.” He yawned again.

“Go to sleep, Scotty,” Stiles said, eyes moving restlessly behind his eyelids. There was no way he was going to be able to fall back asleep.

 

Stiles had no idea where he was when he woke up. All he knew was that the entire world was suddenly bumping and rattling around him. He jolted up, yanked firmly back into place by a tightly strapped seatbelt, and looked around. Scott was giving him a smug smile, and Lydia was applying makeup on the other side of him, somehow looking perfectly put together again after a twelve and a half hour flight. It was unfair.

“Can I use your concealer?” he asked, attempting to stretch again, this time with his hands above his head to try and minimize injuries.

“You can have it on the train,” she assured him, “But get some gum out of my purse. Your breath is terrible.”

Just for that, he breathed directly in her face, causing her to push his head out of the way in disgust. He bent down to extract her purse from under the seat in front of her and pulled out two pieces of gum, one of which he handed to Scott.

“Thanks, man,” Scott yawned, as the plane finally rolled to a stop.

The sun was just coming up as they disembarked the plane. There was a hush over everything, but he could feel the excitement starting to bubble up inside him. He grinned widely. “We’re in South Korea,” he said, as the significance of that fact hit him. Scott smiled widely at him as he dragged his bag off of the luggage carousel.

“We are!” Lydia squealed, hugging him tightly.

“I can’t believe all three of us made it this year,” Scott admitted.

Stiles, Scott, and Lydia had grown up skating together. Scott had needed something to do while his mom worked, Stiles wanted to spend all of his time with his new best friend, and Lydia hadn’t wanted Stiles to be better than her at anything. After their mom died when Stiles was ten and Lydia was 9, competing against each other had felt wrong. Coach Deaton had tried them out on Pair Skating, until his sister, Coach Morrell, introduced them to ice dancing. From there, Stiles and Lydia had gone on to take the figure skating world by storm, winning gold at Junior Worlds, before working their way up to a silver at Worlds the year before they qualified for the Olympics. Scott had risen with them, competing at many of the same competitions as an individual figure skater, and just barely scraping silver at Worlds by two tenths of a point.

And now all three of them were dragging their bags to the shuttle that they would ride to the train station, where a bullet train would take them on to the Olympic Park in Pyeongchang. Stiles used Lydia’s concealer under his eyes on the shuttle, which was a bit bumpy, and was causing people to send him some strange looks, but he looked less dead when he was done, and Lydia somehow managed to wing her eyeliner despite the bumps, so really it couldn’t have been that bad.

He had to wake Scott up when they got to the train station, but the fifteen minute wait for the train to Gangneung was more than enough time for him to fall asleep again. Some of the people milling around, waiting for their train, he recognized from Worlds or from watching them on TV in other Olympic Games. It was a little surreal.

“Hey, isn’t he the guy who won gold in snowboarding last year?” Stiles asked, watching the people around them with even greater interest than usual.

Lydia squinted at him. “I think so,” she agreed, “And that guy he’s talking to is a downhill skier.”

“Huh.” They people watched a while longer until their train pulled into the station.

Stiles woke Scott up again, and they filed onto the train with probably most of the crowd that had been waiting with them. It was a pretty tight squeeze, with people of all different nationalities packed in together. One stranger in particular made Stiles do a double-take. He grabbed Scott and Lydia’s arms, pulling them to an abrupt stop.

“Guys, that’s Derek Hale!” he hissed. He didn’t have to repeat himself – everyone knew who Derek Hale was. He had won the Gold for Men’s singles figure skating at the past two Olympics, and he had won gold over Scott at Worlds.

Before Lydia and Scott had time to figure out what he was talking about, Stiles was already making his way over to where Derek Hale was sitting.

 

This was going to be Derek’s last Olympics. He knew it. It was his own choice, and he wanted to keep it that way. He wasn’t getting any younger, but somehow his competitors were. And his knee seemed to be giving him more and more trouble every day. He wasn’t going to go out with a fall or a sinking realization at qualifiers that he had somehow become legitimately _old_ in the span of four years. The plan was to go out with a gold medal around his neck.

He sat on the train, headphones firmly in his ears as he tried not to reflect too much on the bittersweet taste of the beginning of the end of his figure skating career. His peace (or lack thereof), was suddenly disturbed by a kid in a huge puffer-jacket waving his arms madly and saying something loudly enough that Derek could almost make out words over his music. He was getting strange looks. Definitely American. Derek sighed and pulled one headphone out of his ear.

“What?” he asked, feeling his eyebrows scrunching together in confusion. The people to either side of the flailing kid looked slightly put off. It was understandable – Derek’s confused face and his angry face were fairly similar.

“Team USA!” the kid repeated, only slightly less exuberantly, “You’re Derek Hale, right? Dude, I saw your World’s program last year. In person. It was amazing.”

“He cried,” the redheaded girl next to him said with a faint smile. The kid gaped at her.

“I’m Scott McCall,” the third one said, sticking out a hand to shake Derek’s, “You probably don’t remember me, but you beat me at Worlds by, like, five points.” His smile was a little lopsided and self-deprecating, but entirely genuine.

A closer look jogged his memory. “Yeah,” he nodded, pulling out his other headphone with the decision that he should probably talk to his teammates. He wasn’t very good at this part. “Your short program was really good. Coldplay, right?”

Scott beamed and nodded, taking the seat next to Derek as the other two sat across from them. “These are Stiles and Lydia. The Stilinski siblings.”

Derek felt himself frown as he tried to remember the names. “Ice Dancing?” he tried, finally.

“Bingo,” Stiles grinned across at him, “It’s our first Olympics. All of us. But we grew up skating at the same rink…”

And suddenly the entire life story of these three kids was being poured out in front of Derek. Lydia rolled her eyes at him with a certain fondness in her smile telling him, _you might as well get used to this_.

By the time Stiles had exhausted a play-by-play of qualifiers (which Derek remembered very well, since he had also been there), the sun was all the way up and they were nearly to Gangneung.

“Do you ever get used to competing at the Olympics?” Scott asked, after a minute.

Derek thought about it. It was a familiar feeling, being on his way to the Olympic Park, but it was still exciting and still nerve-wracking. “No, not really,” he decided, “But I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

 

The three young skaters, Scott, Stiles, and Lydia, followed him into processing, talking around him and sometimes to him. He wasn’t quite sure how it had happened. Most of the time, he kept to himself at competitions, headphones firmly in place, but he felt a little like he had been commandeered. Made friends with against his will.

They ran into Isaac Lahey while picking up their uniforms. He was the last piece of the US men’s single figure skating team, and maybe Derek’s best friend in the skating world, regardless of how young he was. Isaac laughed when he noticed the group around Derek.

“Shut up,” Derek grumbled.

“No, it’s cute,” Isaac assured him, “I’m glad you’re making friends.”

“I’m not making friends,” he retorted, “I’m being made friends _with_.”

Isaac snorted with laughter, but greeted Scott, Stiles, and Lydia, all of whom he seemed to know pretty well already. Derek had a sudden feeling of realization that keeping to himself had left him way out of the loop with the other figure skaters. That thought in itself, and how horrifically _old_ it made him feel would usually have had Derek withdrawing into himself again, but Stiles was already exclaiming over a picture of a white tiger and asking Derek about the mascots of other Olympics.

By the time they were on their way to the Olympic Village, he still hadn’t had time to brood, and couldn’t really find it within himself to be that upset about it.

“Hey, Scotty,” Stiles leaned across Derek to talk to his friend, “It’s past 8 already. Want me to take your bag to your room?” Personal space was something that Stiles clearly knew nothing about.

Scott swore in realization. “Yeah. Thanks. I told you it was cutting it close!”

As a result, Stiles was weighed down with twice as many bags when they finally reached the Olympic Village, trying to balance them all as he stared up in wonder at the tall buildings surrounding them.

“This is so cool,” he breathed, chin tilted up, straining to see the tops of the buildings above them. Derek found himself less enthralled with the structures around him, and more with the way that his new team mates were experiencing them.

Derek cleared his throat, and slipped the backpacks off of Stiles’s back, causing him to spin around in confusion.

“Oh, I got it, dude,” he said, not at all convincing, as he shrugged his shoulders in relief.

“It’s fine,” Derek replied. He had a feeling that, for him, at least, this year’s Olympics wouldn’t just be about winning the gold. He had a team to work with now.


	2. Opening Ceremony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More skating tonight - yay! Again, I'm going to edit all of these chapters way more later, so sorry for any mistakes!
> 
> Enjoy :)
> 
> Edited 3/8/18

Stiles could hardly contain his excitement. He was sure that if everybody else wasn’t so excited too, he would probably have made a dozen enemies already. As it was, he wasn’t sure that Derek liked him very much. Maybe he was supposed to act cooler about everything, but apathy had never been Stiles’s strong suit. He was at the Olympics! How could anyone be calm about that?

Lydia squealed at an ungodly volume when they found Allison Argent in the Team USA lounge area.

“Allison! When did you get here? Oh my god, I have so much to tell you!” she said very quickly.

Stiles just smiled and shook his head as the girls rushed off into Allison’s room, already whispering to each other. They had been best friends ever since they had started competing against each other at Junior Nationals when they were little, and even when Stiles and Lydia had moved on from the singles events, their friendship had never fallen through, much like Stiles and Scott’s. He was endlessly glad that Lydia had someone else in the skating world like Stiles had Scott. He wasn’t sure most siblings could put up with spending as much time together as Stiles and Lydia did. They would always be ridiculously close, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t use time away from each other sometimes.

He pulled his and Scott’s suitcases into one of the vacant rooms. The past few years at Worlds, Stiles and Lydia had given up sharing a room to share with Scott and Allison, respectively, instead. So far, it was working out pretty well.

“Where do you want these?” Derek asked from behind him, nearly giving Stiles a heart attack. He had almost forgotten that Derek was even there, but he stood stoically in the doorway with both Scott and Stiles’s backpacks swung over his broad shoulders.

“Oh, uh. Just throw them anywhere,” Stiles said awkwardly. He looked around as Derek set the backpacks carefully at the foot of one of the beds. “So,” he continued, unable to keep his mouth from running, “You rooming with Isaac?”

“Yeah,” Derek gave him that look again, the one that seemed to scare people, but that Stiles recognized as less of a glower and more a look of confusion. He was good at picking out confused expressions. He got them a lot.

“That’s cool,” Stiles continued, despite the underwhelming response, “Isaac’s a cool guy. I think I competed against him once before me and Lydia started Ice Dancing.”

Derek nodded, still watching Stiles closely with that constipated expression. “He’s a good skater,” he agreed after a minute, “and a good friend.”

Stiles tried to fit this new information into what he knew about Derek Hale. Sure, the guy almost always looked like he was about to murder someone (talk about resting bitch face), other than those rare, beautiful smiles that shined through while he was on the ice, but he could have friends, right? Everyone had friends, didn’t they? By the time he had cycled through an argument with himself about whether or not it was weird that Derek Hale was friends with Isaac Lahey, Derek had disappeared across the hall into his own room.

Shrugging it off, Stiles flopped onto his bed, on top of his 2018 Olympic bedspread, and smiled so hard he was pretty sure his face started to seize up. _He was at the Olympics._ That was never, ever going to get old. The signs and decorations and people around him reminded him of it every few minutes anyways, but he wasn’t sure he would have been able to forget. He had been waiting for this almost his entire life. They had come so close to making the Olympic team last time around, but only just missed it. In the past four years, they had been training harder than he was pretty sure he had ever worked at anything in his life. And it had paid off. “I wish you were here to see it, Mom,” Stiles whispered under his breath.

 A knock came on his doorframe, only preceding Lydia and Allison’s entrance by a few seconds.

“Stiles!” he was tackled into a hug by Allison, and struggled his way back up to sitting, laughing the entire time.

“Hey, girl! When did you get here?” he grinned.

“Last night,” she replied with an equally wide grin, “Really, really late last night. I can’t believe we’re here, can you?”

“I thought you’ve already been to the Olympics,” Lydia, said, sitting on Scott’s bed.

“Well, yeah,” Allison confessed, “But it’s only my second time. Did you know it’s Derek Hale’s _fourth_?”

Stiles frowned. “How old was he at Torino?” he asked.

“Sixteen, I think,” Allison, said, scrunching her eyebrows together in thought.

“Shit, that’s young,” Stiles whistled.

“Did you hear that he’s retiring after this Olympics?” Lydia put in.

Stiles flopped back onto his bed with a grunt. “Lydia, I hear everything you hear,” he groaned. She threw a pillow at him.

“Hey, guys?” Isaac appeared in the doorway, looking slightly amused, but also a little unsure, “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“No!” Stiles leapt off of his bed, tossing the pillow back to Lydia, “Were you going to get something?”

“Yeah, me and Derek were going to go look around and see what they have. Want to come with?” he offered.

Stiles looked at Lydia. “How long do we have?”

“About 4 hours. Definitely time to eat,” she slipped off of Scott’s bed and followed a smiling Isaac out of the room.

 

Derek hated to even think it, but he felt a little like a mother duck herding her ducklings around. It was ridiculous, because he had never even been to Korea, but any time there was any confusion about anything, he felt the faces of the first-time Olympic skaters turn towards him. Even Allison Argent, who he definitely remembered being at Sochi, would seem to look to him from time to time. When Stiles and Lydia left to practice, Stiles even stopped in at Derek and Isaac’s room to ask them (his eyes mostly on Derek) to make sure that Scott didn’t fall asleep while they were gone. Derek spent at least an hour in the lounge, telling Scott everything he wanted to know about skating at the Olympics, with Isaac pitching in here and there (he had been at Sochi four years ago, as well).

The level of excitement and noise was infectious that night, as everyone got ready for the Opening Ceremony. The bathrooms were overcrowded with people doing hair and makeup, and everything was a wave of red, white, and blue. Derek remembered the truly atrocious sweaters from the previous Olympics. As he watched Stiles struggle to pull this year’s Team USA sweater over his head, he felt suddenly relieved. They looked good on Stiles at the very least.

“Hey, these are better than those ones we had at Sochi, right?” Derek asked Isaac.

“I don’t know,” Isaac said with a lopsided smile, “I kind of liked those.”

“Then you have terrible taste,” Stiles told him, “Seriously though, how are we supposed to wear all of these layers at once?” He jammed his arm violently into the sleeve of his coat, fingers gripped around the end of the sleeve of his sweater. His hand didn’t appear at the end.

Derek rolled his eyes. “Come here,” he said, reeling Stiles in by his arm, and feeling the inside of his sleeve until he found Stiles’s hand and pulled until their hands slipped out the end of the sleeve. “You are such a child,” he told him, helping him with the other sleeve as well.

“Well maybe if we didn’t have so many layers –“

Derek looked at Stiles as he got the coat all the way on. They were much closer than he had realized.

“Thanks!” Stiles finished in a high-pitched voice, turning away from him quickly.

Things only ramped up on the shuttle up to the mountains. Derek had somehow ended up squeezed into the aisle seat next to Stiles, where he was constantly leaning across him to talk to Scott and Allison across the aisle, or jostling him as he practically stood on his seat to talk to Lydia and Isaac behind them.

“Do you want to switch?” Derek asked, when Stiles nearly fell into his lap as they took a sharp turn  towards the mountains. Strangely, he felt like he should probably be more annoyed than he actually was.

“Huh?” Stiles braced his arm against the back of the seat in front of him, “Oh, no. That’s okay. I’ll stop, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Derek found himself saying again.

“Hey, you’re excited, right?” Stiles asked suddenly.

Derek frowned at him. “It’s the Olympics, Stiles. Of course I’m excited.”

“Oh,” Stiles blushed, “Well…hey, do you want to be on my Instagram story?” His face lit up so suddenly and so hopefully, that Derek found it impossible to say no to him.

“Sure,” he shrugged, as Stiles pulled out his phone.

“Heyyy everybody!” Stiles grinned into the camera on his phone, “Look who I found in South Korea!” He elbowed Derek in the side. “Say hi.”

“Hi,” Derek obeyed, feeling a smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth a little bit.

“That’s Derek Hale!” Stiles told his phone, “TEAM USA!”

Cheers went up from the Americans around them, including Derek, somewhat to his own surprise.

 

Inside the venue, the Opening Ceremony had started, everyone grouped together by country. Derek talked to some of the people he knew from the mountain sports, including Ethan and Aiden, twin snowboarders. Mostly, though, he found himself absorbed into the figure skating team. Scott and Stiles easily pulled Isaac into their shenanigans, with Allison and Lydia just as raucous. Erica and Boyd were there for pair skating and seemed to get along with the others just as well. Derek knew that he tended not to outwardly express emotions but seeing everyone so excited and wild forced a smile out of him.

 And as soon as the US was called forwards, all hell broke loose. There was plenty of yelling and cheering, and nearly everyone’s phone was out to record one of the most memorable events they would probably ever be a part of. Stiles had his arms slung around Scott and Derek’s necks, nearly jumping up and down as they walked, yelling and cheering. Derek caught himself watching the lights reflect off of Stiles’s whiskey brown eyes, his dark eyelashes contrasting his pale skin, pink with the cold and wind, more than once. There was an energy, an utter joy that magnetized Derek to him.

Stiles caught his eye and grinned broadly, causing Derek to grin back. Deep in the back of his mind, he realized that the press would probably have a field day with Derek Hale smiling outside of the context of an ice rink, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had been to the Olympics three times before this, but somehow this one was hitting him differently. He wasn’t sure if it was because he knew that this was the last one or because he had suddenly found himself surrounded by a group of skaters who just wouldn’t let him stay in his own little bubble.

When he lay awake that night, listening to Isaac’s soft snores, he felt something settle in his chest. Maybe he had only just met most of them, but this year’s US figure skating team was already his favorite that he had worked with. Maybe there was a reason for that. And maybe, after only a day, he wasn’t quite ready to think about that yet. He rolled onto his side, smiling at the faint outline of Isaac, burrowed deep under his covers, and fell asleep, seeing whiskey brown behind his eyelids.


	3. On the Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I watched the first episode of Yuri on Ice today (which I have never seen), because people seem to like it, and I thought it might be good research, but now I kind of want to watch all of it right this second? Oops...
> 
> Pairs are medaling (is that a thing?) tonight. Not sure how I feel about any of them in particular, but I'm sure as hell gonna watch it :)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> Updated 4/6/18

Stiles woke up too early for his jetlag the next morning, alarm buzzing on his nightstand. He grabbed his phone, sitting up as he turned off the alarm and wiped a hand down his face. “Scott, get up,” he groaned, throwing his pillow in the general direction of Scott’s bed. Scott grunted.

“If I have to get up and skate in the Olympics, then you have to get up and watch me,” he insisted, and then thought about what he had just said. “Scotty, I’m skating at the Olympics!” he shouted.

Scott sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “This is awesome, dude,” he croaked.

“I know, right?” Stiles nearly bounced with joy, “I’m going to go take a shower!”

He burst into Lydia’s room first, met with high pitched shrieks and hugs, which the other athletes might not be totally thrilled about. She and Allison were both already showered, and mostly dressed, halfway through hair and makeup.

“Stiles!” Lydia cut in, as he and Allison talked over each other about _oh my god we’re at the Olympics_ , and what they still had to do before they even got to the rink, “Go take a shower! We need to leave in an hour and a half and we haven’t had breakfast yet!”

The lounge was buzzing by the time Stiles was ready to go to breakfast. He, Lydia, and Allison were all in full make-up. Scott, and surprisingly, Isaac and Derek, were also awake, somewhat put together in Team USA gear, but relaxed in a way that said they didn’t have to skate today.

If Derek Hale somehow looked softer and happier that morning, well, Stiles wasn’t going to say anything. Not that he could focus very much anyway. His leg bounced at hyper speed as they ate breakfast in the dining hall. Scott, he was pretty sure, was giving him worried looks, but Stiles and Lydia sat closely next to each other as they ate, subtly keeping an eye on each other, even more so than on themselves. He barely noticed going over to the Ice Center, but a tight hug from Scott momentarily brought him back to reality.

“Your dad’s going to be here, right?” he said.

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded, glancing at Lydia, who nodded as well, “He should have gotten in early this morning.”

Scott grinned. “You’re going to do awesome!” he told them, giving Lydia, and then Allison hugs as well. Isaac quickly followed, wishing them luck. Derek almost left it at nodding and saying good luck, but as everyone else started to walk away, he grabbed Stiles by the arm.

“You skate for your dad, right?” Derek asked. Stiles felt his jaw drop. How did Derek know that? But he snapped his mouth shut and nodded. “And you love it, right? You love skating?”

“Yeah, dude,” Stiles frowned in confusion. He really wasn’t sure how this conversation was even happening, “Of course I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“Then skate because you love it. You’re just showing off for your dad,” Derek’s eyes were locked onto Stiles’s. He swallowed hard. “Don’t let it get to you, but if it does, this is a team event. It doesn’t matter that much.”

“It kind of does,” Stiles reminded him.

“But you’re here because you and Lydia are the best Ice Dancers in America. You belong here.”

He grinned widely at Derek’s intense expression. “You’re good at this whole pep-talk thing,” he said.

Derek glared, but it seemed more fond than anything. Were he and Derek Hale becoming _friends_? This was amazing. “Whatever,” Derek said, “Go warm up.”

Stiles felt awkward for a second. He wasn’t sure if they were supposed to hug or not, but everyone else had left, and oh _god_ , when had that happened? Instead of allowing himself to flail in awkwardness for any longer, he raised a hand for a high-five (which was totally lame), and then went off towards the dressing rooms, maybe looking over his shoulder a few times too many.

 

They had warmed up and run over a few things on the ice, but Stiles and Lydia weren’t slated to go until the second group. The waiting was torture. She and Coach Morrell were talking as Stiles stretched, headphones firmly in his ears. Coach Deaton knew better than to try to give him any notes right before a competition. His ADHD was mostly under control now, between medications and therapy, but he still liked to give himself enough time to get into the right frame of mind before a competition.

“Stiles,” he looked up, still jamming to the music in his ears, Lydia sat across from him, sinking into her left split.

“Like we practiced?” he asked.

“Yeah, what do you think?” she stood after a minute, extending a hand to him. He took it and let her pull him to his feet.

“We can do it,” he assured her, pulling the headphones out of his ears and throwing them into his bag.

“I know we can,” Lydia agreed with a smile. They held hands tightly as Deaton and Morell guided them out to the rink.

Stiles nearly ran into Lydia, who had stopped in her tracks. He totally understood, though. There were so many people, and the Olympic rings on the ice suddenly seemed brighter than ever before. He shucked his skate guards and jacket as he looked around. He had never skated in front of a crowd this big before.

“You’re up,” Morrell gave him a light shove onto the ice, where he glided along to watch Lydia skate on after him. “You can do this,” she reminded him.

He gave her a mini salute, and then skated off after Lydia for one more warm-up. With the lights warm on his skin and the ice smooth under the blades of his skates, he finally felt like it was true. Derek was right. All that mattered was how damn much he loved this. He glided to Lydia, taking her hand as the other skaters left the rink. “Love you,” he muttered under his breath, as they took their beginning position.

“Love you too,” she breathed back.

 

“Representing the United States of America: Lydia Stilinski and Mieczyslaw Stilinski.”

Derek had felt bad for Stiles. He had recognized that look of anxiety that had been haunting him all morning as a very similar look to the one that Derek had worn to his first Olympics when he was 16. Derek had thrown up at least once before his first skate, but Stiles looked okay. Maybe even better than okay. He watched him skate circles around Lydia as they prepared to set up for the beginning of their program. His eyes were closed, and a calm smile played at his lips. He looked how Derek felt when he was on the ice.

Stiles and Lydia took their places, and the music started. Derek had seen them skate before. In person, even. But this was different. He’d never had too many friends in ice dancing, so he had never watched too closely. Now, though, he saw the clean lines of their skates, the ease of the synchronization, and the effortless chemistry that could only come from two people as close as the Stilinski siblings. It was as if they danced with one mind, not needing to look at each other, because they already knew exactly what the other was doing, but looking at each other anyways, because the moment was worth sharing. Derek was mesmerized, nearly jolting out of his seat when a roar of applause went up, which he hastily joined.

“Did they just – “

“Four twizzles, yeah,” Scott nodded.

“I thought they only needed three for the higher score,” Isaac said.

“Yeah, but they like to throw in a fourth. It’s kind of their thing,” Scott told him.

_Oh_ , Derek thought, _Casual._ “How are they so perfectly in sync?”

“Practice?” Scott guessed, “Or maybe mind-melding.”

They leapt to their feet to cheer when the music finished. He watched Stiles pull Lydia into a tight hug and then pump a fist into the air before they took their bows. Both siblings were absolutely glowing with happiness as they skated of the ice. Derek wasn’t sure if he would be welcome, but Scott pushed him along to meet them in the Kiss and Cry. He _was_ part of Team USA, after all.

Stiles hugged Scott tightly, and then practically tackled Derek, saying, “Thank you so much” at the exact same time as Derek was saying, “That was amazing!”.

“You really think so?” Stiles asked, as they took their seats to wait for the score.

“If you don’t get first, you’ll have been robbed,” Derek assured him. Stiles grinned breathtakingly, and turned to look up at the scoreboard, his hand tightly clenched in Lydia’s. Derek felt Isaac’s hand grasping his shoulder firmly as they waited.

“Lydia Stilinski and Mieczyslaw Stilinski of the United States receive a score of…” Derek’s breath caught. They couldn’t win any medals yet, but they could lose. No, it was fine. This was for the team event. He could pick up the slack if he needed to. “75.46.”

The box erupted with noise. Lydia was screaming incoherently at Stiles, who was talking and flailing loudly. Derek was smiling fully.

“We’re in first. Holy shit, we’re in first!” Stiles shouted. There was a whole other group and a half to go, but Derek didn’t feel the need to remind them of that. Instead, he found himself giving out more hugs. When Stiles and Lydia met them back in the Team USA box with glowing smiles and tracksuits on, they had been knocked down to second, not that it seemed to bother them at all. Stiles sat between Scott and Derek and showed him the plush that he had in his hand.

“Is it a tiger?” Scott asked.

“His name’s Soohorong,” Stiles explained, “He’s one of the mascots for the Pyeongchang Olympics.”

“How do you know that?” Scott frowned.

“I’m sorry,” Derek leaned across Stiles to look at Scott, “But how have you missed the giant white tigers walking around?”

Scott looked slightly sheepish, but Stiles snorted in laughter. “Derek Hale,” he sighed, elbowing Derek in the ribs, “Don’t ever change.”

Derek smiled.


	4. In the Media

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is so short. I might post another chapter tonight, but I've been trying to write Derek's half for like an hour and I still want to get to the gym and watch figure skating tonight. Not that you necessarily need to know that but, yeah. That's why it's so short. I'll try to finish Derek's later :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Deaton found him during the Ladies’ short program. “Stiles, have you been on the internet recently?” he asked, crouching behind Stiles in the USA box so that Stiles had to turn to look at him.

“No, am I supposed to be? I just got off the ice, like an hour ago…”

“I just thought you might want to see this article,” Deaton said, passing him his phone, an article pulled up with pictures from the opening ceremony at the top. Most notably, a picture of Stiles, an arm slung around Derek’s neck, wearing a wide smile as Derek smiled softly at him, without him seeming to be aware of it. There were other pictures, mostly of the two of them together.

“I just wanted you to know in case you get asked any questions, Deaton told him, taking his phone back, “It’s not important, but the article is speculating about the relationship between you and Derek.”

Derek turned to look at Deaton as well. “I’m sorry,” he said flatly, “I kind of have a reputation with the media –“

“Don’t apologize for that,” Stiles cut in, “It shouldn’t be any of their business who you smile at. Or if you ever smile ever again. Or if all you ever do is smile – “

“Stiles,” Derek said patiently.

“Yeah, sorry. Thanks for the heads up, Coach,” Stiles stopped the flow of words. If there was anyone whose social inadequacy the media should be talking about, it was Stiles. Maybe he was just used to listening to himself blabber on and on uncoordinatedly, but Derek seemed so much more professional and put together in his stoicism. If he smiled less than people like Scott, then Stiles didn’t notice it. Mostly he seemed way more normal than a lot of people that Stiles knew.

He turned back around to watch the ice as Allison’s name was announced.

“Thanks,” Derek said quietly.

“For what?” Stiles whispered back as they watched her take her place. He glanced sideways at Derek, who shrugged.

“Fresh perspective,” he replied. Stiles watched him until Allison’s music started, and then looked back to the ice again, smiling.

“Any time.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Derek smiling again.

 

“Dad!” Stiles raced Lydia for first dibs at a Dad hug, beating her out and sticking his tongue out very maturely.

“You two were pretty great,” he told them, shoving Stiles away playfully after a warm hug to pull Lydia in. “How is it you get better every time I see you?”

“Practice,” Stiles assured him, “Way too much practice.”

“As if you don’t love it,” Melissa McCall said from next to them. Stiles grinned and hugged her.

“I thought you weren’t coming until later,” Lydia said, slipping in after him, “Scott doesn’t skate until Friday.”

“What, and miss you two?” She smiled, “Not a chance! Now, do you two need to go and watch pairs, or can we get some food in you?”

Stiles and Lydia looked at each other. “We should probably stick around for Erica and Boyd, but you should go eat,” Lydia said.

“We’ll wait for you,” their dad said.

 

“We could get a medal,” Stiles said, thoughtfully. He was lying on his back on the floor in the middle of the lounge. He had come back after a quick practice with Lydia, and lay gracelessly on the floor, where he had yet to move from.

“ _Could_?” That was definitely Erica Reyes. He couldn’t see her except for her feet from where he was laying, but he knew she was sitting on the couch with Boyd’s head in her lap, the same way they had been sitting when Stiles fell on the floor nearly an hour ago. “You put us in first on your first ever Olympic skate,” she pointed out, “Allison nearly caught up to that Russian girl, and Derek Hale has won four Olympic Gold medals…not to mention me and Boyd.”

Stiles snorted. “So humble.”

“All I’m saying is you should be keeping your eyes on the prize,” she said, easily.

“And by _prize_ , she doesn’t mean Derek Hale,” Boyd said, sounding almost halfway to sleep.

Stiles sat bolt upright and looked around. Some hockey girls were in the corner, not paying them any attention, but other than that, the room was empty. “ _What_?” he hissed, “What does that mean?”

Boyd smiled. His eyes were closed, but he still looked ridiculously smug.

“You know what it means, honey,” Erica smiled. She was very beautiful and incredibly talented, but she had a way of smiling when she wanted to that showed every single one of her teeth. It was terrifying.

“I really don’t,” Stiles frowned.

“Remember when we were like that?” she sighed to Boyd.

“We weren’t like that, babe,” Boyd snorted, “Much less obvious.”

“That’s true,” she acknowledged.

“Do I _want_ to know what you’re talking about?” Stiles asked. “Is this about the Derek smiling thing?”

Erica stood up, pulling Boyd with her. “You’re cute,” she said, patting Stiles on the cheek as they passed. “Get some sleep. We have a medal to win tomorrow.”


	5. Team Event

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little longer to make up for yesterday :)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I'm setting the chapter count at 11 right now, because that's what it's looking like with some rough planning, but that could always change, just so you know!

Derek had watched Stiles and Lydia skate again before going to warm up. He felt calmer than he had expected to, going into his first skate of the Olympics. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was older and more familiar with the position he was in or because Stiles was inadvertently forcing him to actually listen to his own words. No, not just Stiles. He had been doling out advice like a life coach practically since he had set foot in Gangneung. It was a nice feeling though. He felt more relevant, even in the fading spotlight of his career.

He laced up his skates as it drew closer to time for his program to start. He would probably be asked about Stiles afterwards. You didn’t win multiple gold medals without the media feeling the need to pry into your life. He was used to it. He was just sorry that Stiles had to be the collateral damage this time around.

“You’d better get out on the ice, Derek,” Braeden, his coach, told him, “They’re warming up for the men.”

He nodded and stood up. A glance at the Team USA box showed him Stiles and Lydia talking animatedly with relieved smiles. Stiles had seemed much less nervous this time around too. Derek felt his skates hit the ice and smiled. This was why. This feeling of gliding across the ice was worth everything.

Much too quickly, it was time to get off the ice. He had to stay focused. His was the third program in the men’s group, and they were in second at the moment. If he did well, Allison would have enough cushion, and maybe they could get that gold medal. Stiles’s caught his eye and waved. Derek waved back. Focused. He could stay focused. Time passed slowly, but all to quickly, and Derek was on the ice again.

“And don’t make that last quad a triple if your knee isn’t feeling it,” Braeden reminded him for probably the tenth time. “You can pull out all of the stops for the individual event. You don’t have to be the big hero here.”

Derek nodded, tossing her his water bottle and skated towards the center of the ice. He had already had surgery on his knee once, and his doctors were talking about a second surgery, and the impact that it was causing on his opposite hip. Some skaters lasted past thirty, but Derek wouldn’t be one of them. His name was announced and the audience roared. He would do his best. He would drink everything in one last time. And then…well, he wasn’t too sure about that part yet. The music started and everything else faded away.

Derek Hale was known for his artistry. Sometimes coaches would try to push him away from the darker, sadder music, but Braeden rarely tried to do that, which was one of the reasons she was still his coach. He let the music and emotions flow through him. There was no story, just a feeling that no words could explain, something that gushed out of every movement. He threw the first quad flip, hardly noticing it., and skated through the movement. He was sure the audience was probably making some kind of noise, but all he heard was the music and the hush of his skates caressing the ice. The next jump, a triple salchow triple toe loop, caught a little on the way down, but he skated through it, closing his eyes with a deep breath as he let his body take over. It was only as he finished the last spin sequence of the program that the noise and sight of his surroundings came back in. He finished in a low lunge, and then stood, feeling a little shocked and a lot drained. He was sure it showed on his face.

He bowed over and over, to each side of the rink, and then glided off of the ice, still waving. Surprisingly, or maybe not so much, Stiles was the first to tackle him with a hug, as soon as he stepped off of the ice. Braeden was standing behind him, smiling knowingly with skate-guards in hand as he hugged Stiles back.

“Hey, give the rest of us a turn,” Lydia admonished, next to Braeden with a very similar expression.

“Sorry,” Stiles laughed, stepping away from Derek. Braeden came in for a tight hug and to hand him his skate guards, but his eyes were fixed on Stiles.

“Are you crying?” he asked in amazement.

“Shut up,” Stiles sniffed, smile still glowing under the tear tracks.

“He always cries when he watches you skate,” Lydia said.

“God, way to make me look like a total loser,” Stiles joked. They made their way to the kiss and cry, Derek sitting between Braeden and Stiles as they waited for his score.

“For the Men’s free skate in the team event, Derek Hale, receives 179.75, and is currently in first place.”

The box around him erupted in noise. His back was patted more times than he could count, and he was pretty sure that Stiles was crying again.

“Oh my god, I _told_ you that was amazing!” Stiles cried, as if anyone had been contradicting him. Derek smiled, and found himself being hugged again.

 

Allison had tried her best to keep them in first, but Stiles was convinced that the Canadians had paid off the judges. Still, he probably shouldn’t be complaining. He was standing with his team, second highest on the podium, a silver medal around his neck and a stuffed Soohorong in his hands. The amount that he had cried for sheer happiness today was ridiculous, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. After Derek’s program…he hadn’t known one person could make him feel so much in four and a half minutes, but shit, he felt _a lot_. A reporter had asked him about hanging out with Derek Hale, and he almost didn’t know how to respond for a minute. He was pretty sure they were something like friends now, but…again, that free skate had made him _feel things_. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that yet.

“Smile for the Insta!” Lydia called out, holding up her phone. The entire US skating team gathered around, cramming into the small screen of the phone.

Stiles grinned even wider and held up his medal. He was an Olympic medalist! That was never ever going to get old.

After conferring over the picture to make sure everyone looked good, and taking a few more on other people’s phones, they dispersed into smaller groups.

“Dad says they’re getting a reservation for dinner for us and the McCalls and the Argents now, and do we want to invite anyone else,” Lydia told him, looking up from her phone.

“Do you think we should invite the rest of the team?” he asked, catching himself glancing in Derek’s direction.

“You mean should we invite Derek,” Lydia teased.

“What? No! Why does everyone keep saying that?” Stiles complained.

“Cause you’re all googly eyes over each other like 24/7,” she told him, rolling her eyes, “It would be disgusting if it wasn’t so damn cute.”

“I thought he didn’t like me,” he gave in. Lydia was an excellent judge of character when it didn’t relate to her own love life, so he had learned to take her word for it on things like this.

“Maybe not two days ago, but he does now,” she sighed. “Just go ask him, okay? I’m going to see if Scott’s invited Isaac yet.”

“What about Erica and Boyd?”

“Their having dinner with their family. Maybe we can do a team dinner later,” Lydia replied, already tapping away at her phone again.

Stiles almost couldn’t find Derek when he looked around for him again. He was surrounded by reporters, eyebrows deeply furrowed, the corners of his mouth drawn downwards. Stiles wasn’t sure he had ever seen an expression that more strongly conveyed “get me out of here”. He pushed his way through the crowed, which parted as soon as they recognized who he was, allowing him to meet Derek before peppering the both of them with questions.

“Hey, are you, like, famous or something?” Stiles teased.

The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched, but his expression remained otherwise the same.

“Stiles, you and Derek have a very unique relationship that we haven’t seen from the two of you before,” someone said, shoving a microphone in his face, “How would you describe it.”

“Sorry,” Stiles smiles a little fakely, “We have to go celebrate winning a silver medal at the Olympics. But you can ask me about skating any other time.” With that, he grabbed Derek’s wrist and extracted him from the crowed.

“How are you already a pro at that?” Derek grumbled as they walked away.

Stiles looked at him and found that the constipated look was gone. He wasn’t smiling, but he looked relieved.

“I’m not, I just say words until people get confused,” he admitted, “ _The opponent hurts itself in its confusion._ That was a Pokemon joke.”

“I know,” Derek frowned, but it was totally the cute confused smile frown that Stiles was getting so good at making appear. “I know what Pokemon are, Stiles.”

“Really?” he grinned, “Cause –“

“Did you want something?”

“Besides rescuing your weirdly muscular ass? Yeah. Me and Lydia and Scott and maybe Isaac are going to dinner. Do you have plans, or…” Shit, maybe _he_ had family to celebrate with. Maybe there was a secret boyfriend or girlfriend and that’s why this was so weird.

“No,” Derek sighed, “I was just going to eat in the dining hall.”

“Well, you’re not doing _that_ ,” Stiles snorted, “Come with us. It will be fun.”

“Do you hear me arguing?” Derek raised his eyebrows in amusement.

No, Stiles did not.

 

In hindsight, he realized that he had forgotten to tell Derek that his dad and Scott’s mom and Allison’s dad were all going to be at dinner too. He stood fridgidly until Melissa gave him a warm hug, Stiles’s dad clapped him amicably on the back, and Mr. Argent offered him congratulations on his medal. He sat between Stiles and Isaac at dinner, loosening up more and more gradually until he was finally smiling and laughing at Melissa’s stories of Scott, Stiles, and Lydia growing up.

“Those two had a competitive streak ten miles wide, growing up,” his dad said, shaking his head fondly, “I’m just glad they finally put it to good use.”

“Do you have any family at the Olympics, Derek?” Mr. Argent asked.

“No, um…” Stiles saw the moment that Derek’s expression faded back into a bleak mask, “No, my family passed ten years ago.”

The mood at the table plummeted. Stiles wanted so badly to reach out and hug Derek, comfort him for something that had hurt for so long.

“That’s terrible,” Melissa breathed, “Derek, I am so sorry.”

He nodded slightly.

“Well, we may not be family,” Stiles’s dad said, “But we’re all cheering you on in the stands.”

“Thank you, sir,” Derek’s lips formed more of a grimace than a smile.

Stiles threw all caution to the wind and found Derek’s hand under the table. He squeezed it lightly, and Derek squeezed back, as the talk turned to the upcoming individual events, in effort to take pressure off of Derek.

Later that night, Stiles found Derek on his way back from the bathroom, sitting in the dark lounge, looking out the window at the twinkling lights of the Olympic Village.

“Can I ask what happened?” he said, before he could check himself. Derek turned to look at him. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“About my family?” Derek asked. Stiles nodded, and Derek beckoned him over. “They died in a house fire on the fourth of July,” he sighed, “It was such a big thing for my family. We would all go to my grandparents’ house and eat all day and do fireworks at night, but that year, the fireworks…it was kind of a freak accident.”

“But you weren’t there?” Stiles asked.

Derek looked down at his hands. “My sister and I suck off to the rink. She never really liked fireworks, and I was working on my quad. I wanted to make the Olympics again so badly, I was practicing every day, no exceptions.”

“Your sister though,” Stiles felt a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe not everything had to be terrible for Derek.

He smiled wistfully. “Laura. She’ll be here in time for the individual event.”

“My mom died why I was ten,” Stiles blurted out, “I know it’s not the same, but –“

Derek shook his head. “It hurts the same,” he said.

A few minutes passed in silence before Stiles spoke again. “I’m glad I met you,” he admitted.

“Me too,” Derek agreed.


	6. Downtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm almost caught up to real-life timing! Next chapter will be on the men's skate. Also, I watched all of Yuri on Ice in like 3 days. So worth it!
> 
> Enjoy :)

Stiles woke up on the couch in the lounge, legs tangled with Derek’s. It was still mostly dark out, but he could see light seeping into the sky on the horizon. Derek had his arm tucked under his head, expression softer than Stiles had ever seen it. His mind had had time now to calm down a little from everything that had happened the day before, but that feeling that he had had watching Derek skate was still there. Maybe Erica and Boyd and Lydia had been right. Stiles had always liked watching Derek Hale skate. Years ago, when he was very young, Stiles could remember his mom explaining to Lydia and him why that teenager ice skating on their screen was so amazing. When he went in to skating lessons the next day, he had proudly told his teacher that he wanted to skate like Derek Hale, despite the fact that he could barely do a swizzle without turning into Bambi On Ice. Four years later, his admiration for Derek Hale had grown even stronger, and he and Scott nearly always ended up trying to learn the programs that they saw him do at Worlds (which tended to test Deaton’s unflappable patience). The near-obsession had fallen a bit to the wayside when he started ice dancing. He was probably not going to land a quad lutz in the second half of his program, but there were other things that he was focusing on at that point in his life.

Now Stiles actually knew this guy in real life, and somehow that made watching him skate even more impressive. He wasn’t an alien, as the commentators sometimes liked to say. He wasn’t soulless. He worked hard, but he could also be calm, make jokes, have fun. He was competitive, but Stiles could already see how much he cared about the rest of them doing well. He had a feeling that the man laying asleep in the dawn light in front of him loved hard. He could see it in his skating, when he talked about his sister. But he had already lost so much, and Stiles wasn’t so sure that the Olympics were the best time to act on a crush. Because, _yes_ he liked Derek Hale. And to be particularly mature about it, he _liked-liked_ Derek Hale.

With that dismaying admission, he carefully extracted his legs from Derek’s and slipped out of the lounge towards his room. Maybe he should have woken Derek up, but he wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t sure what to do. He was wide awake now, though.

Somehow, he managed not to wake Scott up as he changed his clothes and grabbed his skates. The building was still quiet, and the long cold walk to the ice rink had him shivering by the time he convinced the guard to let him onto the practice ice. He didn’t skate by himself very often anymore, but every once in a while, he would pull out this program for a run. It was one of the first of Derek Hale’s that he had ever learned. It was graceful and light, unlike a lot of his others. Almost like a bird in flight. Stiles had done it so often that he didn’t even need the music this time. It flowed through his head as easily as his body flowed through the movements, over and over again until he was sure Lydia would kill him in practice later when Stiles could barely stand. Deaton would look disapproving, but not entirely surprised.

He had no idea how long he had been there when someone called his name. He looked over his shoulder to see Isaac Lahey skating onto the ice.

“What are you doing here?” Isaac asked.

“Uh…I don’t know,” Stiles rubbed a hand over his head, “Practicing, I guess?”

“Doesn’t look like one of your programs,” Isaac said, skating closer to Stiles in lazy loops.

“Well, it’s not,” Stiles admitted. He was sure Isaac knew exactly whose program it was.

“Derek never came back to our room last night,” he added casually.

“Didn’t he?” Stiles asked coolly.

“Did you sleep with him?” Isaac asked bluntly, catching Stiles by the arm when he almost fell over.

“No! I mean, technically, yes, I guess? But no!”

“Good,” Isaac nodded, sending a chill through Stiles.

“Why?”

“Derek doesn’t do casual. If he hooks up with someone during the Olympics, it will really mess with him. He won’t skate as well,” he explained.

“Wouldn’t that be good for you?” Stiles frowned.

Isaac glared at him. “Derek is my friend. That means more to me than some chunk of medal.”

Stiles laughed. “I hear you dude. But I’ll have you know,” he skated around Isaac and then turned to glide backwards as he talked to him, “I ‘m the same way. And I’ve never won an Olympic medal before.” He winked and stepped off of the ice. “Have a good practice.”

 

Something was going on with Stiles, Derek realized over the next few days. It wasn’t like he had known him all that long, but somehow he just knew. It was almost a week until Stiles’s next skate, but he seemed restless. He practiced with Lydia a lot and watched Scott practice almost as much. He was his usual happy, energetic self, but with a bit of an edge. Erica and Boyd seemed smug, but they wouldn’t talk to Derek about it, even after their frankly outstanding short program halfway through the week. Isaac had been a bit standoffish to Stiles since the opening ceremony, and although it didn’t seem to faze Stiles at all, Derek was still relieved when they suddenly started to get along again. Scott seemed oblivious to it all, which didn’t surprise Derek at all in sight of the looming Men’s Short Program.

On his way back from training, he stopped by the door to Lydia and Allison’s room. Allison wasn’t there, but Lydia was laying on her bed, reading a thick book.

“Hey,” he said, not entirely sure what he was thinking. She looked up and smiled.

“Hi, Derek.”

“Do you have a minute? I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, shifting on his feet in her doorway.

“Of course! Did you want to close the door?” She closed her book, giving him her full attention.

He nodded, pulling the door closed behind him and sitting on the edge of Allison’s bed. Lydia waited for him to speak.

“What are you reading?” he asked, finally.

She gave him a look. “Is this about me or about Stiles?”

“Stiles,” he sighed.

“I thought so,” she flipped her hair over her shoulder and pushed herself up to sitting, “Do you love him?”

Derek stared, taken aback. “No! I – I mean, I don’t know,” he panicked. Maybe talking to Stiles’s sister wasn’t the best idea…

“Okay,” she said easily, pushing on, “But you like him, right?”

“Yeah,” he sighed in relief, “More than I should.”

She smiled softly. “No such thing,” she said gently, “He likes you too, you know.”

He felt his heartrate pick up. “I’m just not sure I can –“

“Derek. It’s the Olympics. You’re skating in two days. Maybe it seems stupid to tell you not to think about it, but…maybe just let it be. I have a feeling he’ll still be there when you’re ready.”

Derek stared at her. That...might actually make sense? He wanted to save himself the heartache, to tell himself that she was wrong and Stiles wouldn’t see him that way, but he couldn’t help but believe her. “I thought I was supposed to be the one giving the pep talks,” he smiled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well, even coaches need pep talks sometimes,” she smiled back.

“Thanks,” he said, getting up to give her a hug on the way out, “You’re good at it.”

“I know,” she said loftily, but looked secretly pleased.


	7. Men's Freeskate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are all of my Sterek fics such hot messes while the Thiam fics are always so nicely written? I feel like it should be the other way around...that said, I promise I will go back over this fic and add/edit more (I kind of really like it)!
> 
> Also how much do you love Yuzuru Hanyu? I was going to be so mad when Nathan Chen didn't even get on the podium, but he kind of is amazing (let's be real, every single person at the Olympics is pretty amazing). 
> 
> Anyways! this one got kind of long, but that is so not a bad thing imo :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles barely had time to tell Derek good luck the morning of the men’s short program. He did it when Derek came into the bathroom to brush his teeth while Stiles sat on the floor, rubbing Scott’s back as he dry heaved over the toilet bowl.

“You’re going to be fine, Scott,” Derek had said, “You’re a good skater.”

It had seemed too simple, but Scott straightened a little, nodding.

“Good luck if I don’t see you,” Stiles had called after him on his way out of the bathroom.

“Thanks,” Derek nodded, “See if you can get some food in him before he goes to the rink.”

“I will,” Stiles assured him.

Now, Stiles had handed Scott off to Deaton and to Isaac to warm up, and was sitting in the audience between Lydia and Boyd.

“Stop biting your nails,” Lydia told him irritably. He pulled his hand away from his mouth immediately. Lydia was just as nervous for Scott as he was, but she tended to show her nervousness by being bossy and irritable, as though if everyone would just let her control everything, then everything would be all right. Stiles dealt with it by talking too much and moving too much and chewing on things, which annoyed Lydia but also gave her someone to yell at who wouldn’t get offended.

“Maybe they can all tie for gold,” Stiles suggested.

“Not how it works,” Boyd assured him, as if he didn’t already know that.

“It doesn’t really matter if Scott and Isaac don’t get on the podium,” Erica said, sounding perfectly unconcerned, “But this is Derek’s last Olympics. He should go out on top.

“Scott hasn’t been landing any of his quads in practice,” Stiles continued to worry.

“He’ll be fine,” Allison told him, “You just have to have a little faith in him.”

“Right,” Stiles pulled the collar of his jacket towards his mouth and started to chew.

“Stop that!” Lydia swatted it out of his hand..

“ _Group three will now have five minutes on the ice to warm up_.”

“There’s Scott.”

“Isaac’s in group two, right? And Derek’s in group one?”

“Shit, he fell again.”

“Stiles! Stop. Biting. Your. Nails.”

“ _Please clear the ice for the first skater._ ”

Stiles watched Scott as he skated off of the ice to join Deaton. He looked much better than he had this morning, but if the warm up had been anything to go by, then his skating was definitely suffering from nerves.

“He’ll be okay, right?” Lydia whispered to him.

“Course,” Stiles said, “It’s Scott. He always pulls it out of his ass at the end.” Nonetheless, he remained on the edge of his seat as the other skaters in Scott’s group dropped mostly into the top five spots, scores rising higher and higher.

“ _Representing the United States of America: Scott McCall.”_

The entire group of them got to their feet, screaming and cheering as the audience applauded. Scott waved bashfully before taking his place in the center of the ice. His short program was all innocence and boyishness, an air of spring and first love, which the judges always ate up. Stiles thought that it made the reactions to his free skate that much better. The first jump, which was supposed to be a quad lutz turned into a triple, but Scott smiled sweetly anyways and skated on. By the end of the program, he had only landed one of his quads and only attempted two, but the crowd erupted.

“He’s a little rough around the edges,” Erica frowned.

“He makes up for it in the component score,” Stiles said, chewing on his thumbnail as they sat back down to wait for the score. Lydia was too distracted to yell at him this time.

“ _For his short program, Scott McCall will receive a score of 92.98, and is currently in first place._ ”

The audience exploded with noise again.

“He’s the first one to break 90! YEAH SCOTTY!” Stiles shouted, hugging Lydia tightly.

They rode out the excitement through the next group’s warm up, keeping an eye on Isaac as he ran through a complicated footwork section.

“He’s not skating to Swan Lake, is he?” Boyd frowned.

“We’ve all made poor choices in the past, dude, let him live his life,” Stiles told him.

“He’s skating as the prince from the Matthew Bourne version. I get the feeling he identifies,” Lydia told them.

The skaters cleared the ice, and they waited through two more programs before Isaac skated onto the ice again. His artistry was devastatingly beautiful and his lines were impeccably clean, but he stumbled a little coming out of his jumps and dropped a double toe-loop to a triple.

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathed, as the music came to an end, “That poor child. What happened to him?”

Lydia shook her head, eyes shining as she stood to applaud. The rest of the audience stood with her, and Stiles noticed Isaac wipe at his eyes before making his bows.

“ _In the men’s short program, Isaac Lahey receives a score of 94.01 points and is currently in second place.”_

“That’s bullshit,” Stiles frowned, but applauded anyways, watching Scott and Isaac hug it out in the kiss and cry below.

“Scott and Isaac just don’t have as many quads in their programs as some of the other guys,” Allison said, shaking her head, “Unfortunately that’s just how judging works.”

“I know,” Stiles grumbled, “Doesn’t mean I like it.” Actually, it made him really nervous. Stiles and Lydia had good technique, but their artistry was what took it to the next level. Sometimes he just worried that the judges didn’t care about that part of it anymore.

Stiles felt his breath catch when Derek skated onto the ice for his warmup. He had seen Derek’s programs and his costumes, but not since he had admitted to himself that he maybe kind of liked Derek a lot. It was a whole new experience.

“Please don’t get a boner over your boyfriend’s ridiculously tight costume, Stilinski,” Erica teased.

“Shut up,” he said, feeling himself blush, but he kept watching the way Derek moved lithely across the ice, a stark contrast of black mesh and spandex and white ice. It was totally mesmerizing.

Somehow it was hard to watch some of the best skaters in the world when he knew that Derek was warming up just out of sight, that in just a few more minutes, he would be watching Derek skate again. He took the ice to thunderous applause, mindlessly massaging his knee before taking his position in the center of the ice.

“Oh, that’s not good,” Boyd muttered under the music.

“What’s not good?” Stiles asked, not taking his eyes off of Derek.

“His knee is bothering him,” he explained. Stiles risked a quick glance at him, but his expression was as impassable as ever.

Stiles watched Derek with a renewed nervousness. He seemed to be fine as he flowed through the choreography, but Stiles could see him hesitate as he approached his first jump. He made four rotations, but his knee buckled on the landing and he fell right on his ass, getting up immediately, straight back into the choreography.

“Shit,” Stiles muttered.

“He made the four rotations,” Allison assured him, but she still looked worried.

Stiles had never paid so close attention to the technical side of Derek’s programs. Besides the jumps, everything was perfectly clean. The artistry was beautiful, and he landed the rest of the jumps, even if he lost a turn or under-rotated, but he didn’t look perfectly stable. Boyd had totally called it. Lydia grabbed his hand as Derek approached the last jump. It was supposed to be a quad flip triple toe, but – it totally was. Stiles jumped out of his seat, pulling Lydia with him as he cheered, unable to sit down again until Derek had left the ice, clearly favoring his good leg.

“This is so painful,” he groaned at the agonizing anticipation.

“Think how Derek feels,” Lydia told him. That didn’t make it any better.

“ _In the men’s short program, Derek Hale will receive a score of 98.29 and is currently in third place.”_

“Ouch,” Erica said, “He’s used to being in the top four at least, but one of the Japanese skaters will kick him out, at least.”

 

All Derek had wanted to do since finishing his short program was to go down to the practice ice and work out his jumps, but Braeden strictly prohibited him from doing so. Instead, he went to PT, and was instructed to rest his knee as much as possible before his free skate the next day. Stiles was in the lounge when he returned, feeling frustrated and antsy.

“You looked good out there,” Stiles said.

Derek snorted, very much doubting that.

“No, seriously. I mean, okay, so some of those landings kind of looked like they hurt, but – hey, where are you going?”

Derek had started to walk away, but Stiles leapt over the couch to catch his arm.

“To sleep. I can’t do much else right now,” Derek told him, “I’m not even allowed to practice until last minute.”

Stiles looked thoughtful, and he was almost able to pull himself out of his grip before those long fingers tightened around his arm again, and he was met with a beautiful, hopeful expression in those sparkling brown eyes.

“Can I show you something?” Stiles asked.

 

Derek hadn’t been able to watch Scott or Isaac’s free skates, but he heard the scores and the audience, and from what he could tell, they had both done exceptionally well. Isaac would end up somewhere around 10th place, but Scott’s program, skated to powerful, inspirational music with masterful and intense choreography, had put him all the way at the top.

He hardly had a thought to spare for them though, which he felt bad about, until he remembered the soft agility of Stiles’s body as he had skated on the practice rink just for Derek the night before. It was one of Derek’s old programs, repurposed with the musicality and grace of an ice dancer and less rotations in the jumps. It had been beautiful. When Stiles had finished, he had skated over to Derek, who stood on the other side of the wall and took his face in both hands.

“You inspire me,” Stiles had whispered, breath warm against Derek’s lips, “You inspire a lot of people. And you’re not done yet. So make me cry tomorrow.”

Derek had almost kissed him. It had been a good setting, a better moment, but still bad timing. He had his free skate still, and Stiles had both programs. Instead, he had nodded, taking one of Stiles’s hands in his own in thanks, pressing his warm palm against his own cool cheek.

It didn’t matter, he supposed, that his knees sometimes felt like it was going to give out when he jumped. He only had one more skate left in his professional career, and he had to make the best of it.

“You’re up, Derek,” Braeden told him.

He nodded, pulling off his warm up jacket and handing it to her as he approached the ice. Both skate guards came off, and he blew his nose for good measure.

“Derek,” she said, as he stepped onto the ice, “I’m really proud of you.”

“Save it for after,” he told her with a small smile, and skated to the center of the ice. Noise roared in his ears as he was announced, and then faded as the music bled into his skin. This was it. It was a gold or not a gold. It was a success or not. It was Stiles or not Stiles. His eyes flashed open and suddenly he was moving. Movement turned to agony at times, but he felt like he had no control over his body. In his mind’s eye, Stiles was skating alongside him, smile unflappable, sending happiness bubbling up inside of Derek. He felt himself grin wider and wider as the music reached its crescendo. This program felt different this time around. It didn’t feel as much like the end as he had expected, but like the beginning. He vaguely noticed that he landed each of his jumps, but had no idea how many rotations he had done. And by the end, he was on the verge of maniacal laughter.

He fell back onto the ice as the audience applauded the end of his program and the end of his career, and he let out a single, relieved laugh as he panted. He stood to make his bows, and noticed, on the last one, that suddenly a lot of people were waiting for him by the kiss and cry. He skated over, catching sight of Stiles in front of the rest of the US skating team, Stiles’s Dad, Scott’s Mom, Allison’s dad… Laura.

He skated off of the ice, straight into Stiles’s arms, where he reeled Derek in and kissed him. Immediately, Derek’s mind cleared of anything else. Stiles was kissing him. Derek was most definitely kissing Stiles back. When Stiles pulled away, grinning with a deep blush to his cheek, the sound came roaring in again, even louder than before.

“Stiles – “ he tried breathlessly, “You still have to skate.”

Stiles laughed. “Did Lydia give you that too? That’s total bullshit, and I’ll tell you something,” he pulled in close to Derek again, “You make me stronger.” This time Derek kissed him. He didn’t really care that he had yet to hear his score or that all of their friends and family were _right there_ , or that the media was totally going to have a field day about being right. Right now he had Stiles, and that was all that mattered.

Eventually, Stiles pulled away again and pushed him towards Laura, who looked completely taken aback that Derek had dared to not tell her about this, and completely blissfully happy at seeing him again. He was hugged far too many times, and escorted to the kiss and cry by far more people than were probably allowed.

“ _In the men’s long program, Derek Hale will receive a score of 202.73 points, with a total score of 301.01, and is in third place.”_

“Oh my god,” Derek looked wildly around at Scott, who’s jaw was dropped in utter disbelief, “Scott, you won. You got gold!” He felt a smile split across his face as Scott gasped with a breathless sob, eyes already welling up.

“What the fuck?” Scott said, underwhelmingly.

The entire kiss and cry was basically screaming and hugging Scott, who still looked totally lost.

“Remember when you looked like that?” Laura asked, slinging an arm around Derek’s shoulders and slipping a hand into Braeden’s, their matching rings clinking.

“Yeah,” Derek laughed, watching Stiles and Scott cling to each other, crying and babbling incoherently, as only best friends could do. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget.”


	8. Ice Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, this was incredibly rushed, but I promise I will be editing soon! (This will not be the ending of this chapter, I don't think, but I do have other fics I'm supposed too be writing...oops?)
> 
> The Shibutanis were so good last night, but I'm probably going to be on the edge of my seat with my fingers crossed tonight...I really want them to get on the podium!
> 
> Anyways, enjoy :)

Stiles had to admit that Lydia had a point. He would have loved to have spent all of his time exploring this new take on his relationship with Derek, where he was allowed to hold his hand and talk to him all of the time and kiss him senseless, but there was only one day between the men’s free skate and the ice dancing short programs. He was still at the Olympics, and he still had to train.

He came back from the rink with Lydia just in time to catch the rest of the group for dinner. Derek moved over a bit, inviting Stiles to take the seat next to him.

“How was practice?” he asked, as Stiles dug into his food.

“It was alright,” Stiles shrugged, “I think we’re starting to overthink the rumba.”

“Best sentence ever, bro,” Scott reached across the table to fist bump him.

Stiles smiled, but it wasn’t as genuine as he wanted. He knew himself and he knew Lydia. He knew how well they worked together, but he was nervous. It was bound to happen. With Scott, it was as if a light switch had been flipped.  The day before, he had spent hours leaning over a toilet, but now he was all energy and pep-talks. _I guess a gold medal can put a positive spin on pretty much anything_ , Stiles thought.

“Our lifts are flawless, though,” Lydia sniffed, with a flip of her hair. She was already getting a little high and mighty. They were both going to be a mess tomorrow.

“You’ll be great. You always are,” Derek said easily.

Stiles had found himself wondering how Derek could take everything so well. He’d had his title as Olympic Men’s Figure Skating Champion whisked right out from under his nose by a dewy-eyed youth, who was constantly around him, beaming with pride. Sure, he told everyone who would listen that he never could have done it without Derek’s help, in fact, he was right up there with Deaton and his mom, but Stiles wasn’t sure he would have been able to handle it.

“I’m retiring,” Derek told him when he asked later that night while they were cuddling on Derek’s bed, “I don’t need another gold medal…maybe I thought I did, I don’t know. But I’m glad it was Scott. It’s the beginning of an era.”

“And the end of one,” Stiles murmured into his chest.

“Not exactly.” He looked up at Derek to see a small smile on his lips.

“What do you mean?” he asked, sitting up quickly.

Derek blushed. “I’m thinking I might want to try coaching,” he admitted.

“Derek! Oh my god!” Stiles tacked him back onto the bed in a tight hug, “You would be an amazing coach! Hey – I think Deaton’s been trying to hint to Scott that he needs a different coach from me and Lydia. He and his sister ice dance like us, I mean, he used to figure skate, but it’s been a long time, and it’s not the same, and –“

“Stiles!” Derek laughed.

“And you could spend more time with me,” Stiles whispered selfishly.

Derek grinned blindingly. “That would be nice,” he kissed Stiles softly. “I’ll talk to them about it.”

Far too early, Derek kicked Stiles out, telling him that he needed a good night’s sleep in his own room. Stiles protested, but he was ridiculously tired. He fell asleep almost immediately. He woke up again sometime in the early hours of the morning as his bed dipped slightly and the covers were pulled back. At first, he thought it was Derek, but Lydia’s slight frame curled up next to his, and her thin fingers wrapped around his.

“Are you awake?” she asked.

“I am now,” he grunted.

“Sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Nervous or excited?”

“Both, kind of,” she thought for a minute, “Also Allison snores sometimes.”

“Do you ever think…” Stiles paused, wondering if it would just put her more on edge for him to say.

“Probably,” the small amount of sarcasm in her voice was calming.

“Do you think they mark us down sometimes because we’re siblings?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “I don’t like to think that, but…maybe.”

“Okay,” Stiles sighed, “As long as I’m not the only one.”

“Never,” Lydia assured him. He heard her hesitate. “I think Mom would have been proud.”

“Crazy proud,” he agreed with a yawn.

“Yeah. Crazy proud.”

 

The next morning was a dazed rush. They were in the second to last section, so they didn’t have to be up as early as some of the other teams, but they found themselves waking up at 5am anyways, showering, dressing, doing hair and make up.

“I just don’t get why you would have your hair half-up, half-down,” Stiles was complaining as he gelled his own hair in front of the mirror.

“You’re just mad because it gets in _your_ face,” she told him.

“Yes!” he practically shouted.

“Well, too bad,” she stuck her tongue out at him, letting a perfect ringlet fall away from her curling iron, “This is how I’ve always done it for this program, and this is how I’m doing it today.”

“They’re not going to give us extra points because I have your hair in my face,” he insisted.

“It adds difficulty,” she teased.

“Whatever. I need your eyeliner.”

The nerves were still there as they entered the rink, but they were in high spirits, teasing and laughing as they went into the back to warm up.

“NBC wants an interview before you get too into your warm up,” Morrell told them.

They nodded, dropping their bags, and went back out to talk to the press.

“You did well in the Team Event, but you’ve had a few days to relax,” the reporter told Lydia, who nodded pleasantly, “What have you been focusing on more or changing with your short program?”

“Well, there hasn’t been a lot of relaxing, you know,” Lydia said easily, “We’ve been spending a lot of time practicing and cheering on our team mates. In the Eeam event, we were having a little trouble with our lifts, but we’ve been working really hard, and I think it should be a good skate for us today.”

“Stiles,” the reporter moved on almost immediately, “There has been a lot of talk about you kissing Derek Hale after his free skate last night. Can you talk about your relationship with him.”

“Yeah,” Stiles grinned, pushing down the annoyance he felt trying to take over, “Lydia and I have been skating together since the very beginning. I feel very lucky to get to come to the Olympics with my sister and share this experience. I’m assuming that’s the answer to the question you were going to ask after I tell you I’m only here to talk about skating.” He winked. The reporter looked mildly taken aback, but Stiles was proud of himself. He was pretty sure he had done that in a way where he would be seen as delightfully eccentric and not straight-up rude.

“You must have a lot on your minds,” she finally agreed, “Good luck, I know we’re not the only ones cheering for you.”

They thanked her and returned to the warm up room. “ _Don’t_ say I told you so,” he told Lydia, who smiled angelically, popping her headphones into her ears.

In no time, they were stepping onto the ice for their section’s warm up skate. It was just as loud and bright as he remembered. His eyes found his dad and Melissa, then Scott and the team, and Derek. Derek waved, and Stiles waved back.

“Let’s do the rumba just once,” Lydia suggested, “I don’t want us to get it into our heads that we can’t do it.”

He nodded in agreement.

Ten minutes later, they were skating onto the ice again, their names were being announced, and the crowd was cheering. Stiles took Lydia in his arms with a bright grin. “Ready?” he asked.

“You bet your ass I am!” she grinned back, and the music started.

The very first thing was a sudden lift, just as the music started, which always sent the audience into a bit of a tizzy. By the time he had set her down again, he could hear people clapping along to the music. He winked at the judges as they skated by executing the rumba the best that they had in a while. The energy from the audience and from Lydia fueled him. The ice supported him, and his skates glided along with perfect ease. Lydia grinned at him and squeezed his hand as they made it out of the twizzle sequence, perfectly synchronized. That had probably just averaged about eight rotations per twizzle.

The program ended with him holding Lydia up as she reclined in a deep backbend, so he pulled her the rest of the way up, into a tight hug as the crowd roared.

“That was good,” he said.

“Yeah,” she nodded in agreement, skating next to him to take their bows.

They practically flew to the kiss and cry, hugging Deaton and Morrell, and then holding hands as they waited.

“ _In the short dance, Lydia Stilinski and Stiles Stilinski will earn a score of 77.73 points and are currently in first place_.”


	9. Medaling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only one or two chapters left, but I haven't decided if I want to write the closing ceremony before it happens or not. I'm kind of tempted to wait, which would mean I might not update until after the closing ceremony, but I also might just write the rest of the fic without it and then add it in with more detail when I go back to edit. In other words, if you don't see a chapter tomorrow or possibly the next few days, that's why, but I will 100% finish it!
> 
> Enjoy!

Stiles was a mess of nerves for the rest of the day after he and Lydia skated the Ice Dancing short program. Not that Derek could blame him. They had ended up in third place, with a very narrow margin of points between the first four places. With less than 24 hours until they skated their long program, there wasn’t much time to do anything, but the siblings spent plenty of time practicing at the rink anyways. Derek took the empty time to talk with Scott.

“Wait, seriously? You want to be my coach?” Scott’s expression was more shocked than anything. Derek wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting.

“Only if you want me,” Derek assured him, “I wouldn’t want to come between you and Deaton, and obviously I don’t have a lot of experience coaching, but –“

“Deaton _has_ been hinting that I might do better with a coach who’s more focused on figure skating,” Scott admitted, “I thought about going back to Finstock,” he shuddered, “But I don’t know if I would have made it here with him as my coach. Can I talk to Deaton about it?”

“Absolutely,” Derek assured him, “I was going to ask his opinion too, but he’s been busy with Stiles and Lydia. There will be time later.”

Scott agreed distractedly and then looked at Derek again. “It’s serious with Stiles, isn’t it?” he asked suddenly.

Derek thought about it. “It’s new,” he replied diplomatically.

“But serious,” Scott persisted, “It’s not just until the Olympics over and we all go our separate ways. You want to be with him. Is that why you want to be my coach?”

“I want to be your coach because I think you have a lot of potential and when I watch you skate, I know exactly what I want to work on with you,” Derek said honestly.

Scott did not look impressed.

“But,” Derek sighed, “I want to be around him for as long as he’ll let me. I – I can see myself maybe…”

“Falling in love with him?” Scott asked, a wry smile twisting his lips.

He huffed out a laugh, more from relief than anything. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Scott grinned, “but I have to warn you: we’re brothers, me and Stiles, so if you hurt him –“

“I get it,” Derek laughed, “And I would probably let you.”

 

Derek found himself sitting next to Stiles’s dad for the long program the next day. He had seen the man since kissing Stiles after the men’s free skate, but they hadn’t had much time to talk to each other.

“Are you dating my son?” he asked suddenly, as they watched the first group of skaters warming up on the ice.

“Excuse me?” Derek asked, startled.

“Are you dating my son?” he repeated easily.

“Uh…” On Derek’s other side, Scott snorted with laughter. “I don’t know, sir,” he admitted finally, “That’s kind of up to him, but not until after he skates.”

Mr. Stilinski watched him closely and then nodded. “Stiles wears his heart on his sleeve,” he told Derek, “I don’t think you’ll have a problem there.”

“If you’re going to give me the _if you hurt him_ talk,” Derek tried bravely, “Scott’s got that one covered.”

Mr. Stilinski winked at Scott, reminding Derek achingly of Stiles. Was it possible to miss him after less than two hours? Apparently.

“Well,” he said, “Then we might as well get to know each other. I’m Sheriff Noah Stilinski, Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department.” He held out his hand.

Scott looked incredibly amused, but Derek simply took the Sheriff’s hand, saying, “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Derek Hale, retired figure skater.”

 

Stiles’s dad wasn’t so scary. Mostly, Derek could tell that he simply cared immensely about his son, which Derek could really identify with. The two Stilinski men were incredibly similar, and Derek could definitely see Lydia in his features and sharpness, both of mind and tongue. They talked off and on when the skaters took their time to warm up or between programs, but from the second Stiles and Lydia took the ice to warm up, their entire group fell silent.

Someone touched Derek’s shoulder. “I didn’t miss them, did I?” Laura asked, dropping into the seat behind him.

“No, they’re third in this group,” Derek assured her, feeling his nerves start to kick in as the skaters made their way off of the ice for the first program of the section.

“Hey,” she told him, “They’ll be fine. They consistently skate well and they’re already in good shape for the podium.”

“I know,” he sighed. There wasn’t much else that could be said as the music started, but he felt her hand squeeze his shoulder.

He watched anxiously as the total point values climbed higher and higher. He knew he wasn’t the only one. To one side of him, Stiles’s dad chewed at his thumbnail, a habit that Stiles definitely shared. To the other side, Scott was sitting tensely and silently, looking ready to spring out of his seat at any second, which was exactly what he did, cheering loudly and mostly incoherently, as Stiles and Lydia took the ice again. From where they were in the audience, the siblings looked perfectly at ease, but it was hard to believe that was true.

“ _Representing the United States of America: Lydia Stilinski and Stiles Stilinski!_ ”

They waved cheerfully.

“God, I’m tearing up already,” their dad sniffed next to Derek. Laura’s hand appeared with a small package of tissues. Derek looked questioningly at her.

“I’ve seen this program before,” she informed him, “The tribute to their mom? It’s sad.”

The music started, and his eyed were drawn back too the ice. Stiles and Lydia were clinging tightly to each other. The music started slowly, sounding familiar to Derek as they unwound just enough to glide along the ice, working their way into a complex footwork sequence.

_When you walked into the room just then, it’s like the sun came out_

The music picked up, overlapping with _Not Just a Girl_. “It was our mom’s favorite song, so it just kind of weaves in and out of the others,” Stiles had told him when he asked about it after watching them practice one day, “She and my dad used to dance to it in the kitchen. I think it might have been their first dance at their wedding, actually.”

Seeing a rough outline in rehearsal and seeing Stiles and Lydia skating their hearts out on the Olympic ice were completely different. Their costumes were both pale yellow, simple and innocent. They didn’t wear open mouthed smiles like so many other ice dancers, but expressions that radiated a bittersweet nostalgia all throughout the stadium.

_No distance could ever tear us apart. There’s nothing that I wouldn’t do, I’ll find my way back to you_.

They spun perfectly through their twizzle sequence, stretching across the stage, and Lydia collapsed into Stiles’s arms, red hair flying as they turned in a new lift. He barely registered the sniffling around him, but when he reached up to touch his face, his fingers came away wet. He rarely cried at skating, but this program punched the breath right out of him, squeezing and twisting his heart as he thought about his own family. He felt Laura’s fingers find his hand and lace their fingers together, holding on tightly as if one of them might break apart if they didn’t.

By the end of four agonizingly beautiful minutes, Stiles and Lydia were pulling closer together, twirling towards the center of the ice, dropping to their knees together, holding each other tightly.

_Like you were never gone…you were never gone…_

The music faded out and the stadium exploded with noise, nearly everyone on their feet, and no one, at least, no one in Derek’s general vicinity, had dry eyes. Down below, Stiles and Lydia had collapsed into each other, crying hard, but smiling through it.

“Every time,” their dad said shakily, wiping his face, “They get me every time.”

Derek turned around to hug Laura tightly. “I know,” she whispered.

“ _Lydia Stilinski and Stiles Stilinski!_ ”

They were on their feet again, laughing, wiping their eyes, and waving as they bowed. That, Derek thought, was a program to be proud of, no matter how many points they earned with it. He felt the nerves creep back in as he watched them make their way to the kiss and cry. There would be two more pairs skating after them, but they _had_ to at least make the podium, didn’t they?

“ _In the Ice Dancing Free Skate, Lydia Stilinski and Stiles Stilinski earn 126.35, totaling a score of 204.08, and are currently in first place.”_

Derek jumped to his feet to cheer along with the rest of his group. They were in first by a fair amount. The last two teams were older and more experienced, and could probably overtake them, but Stiles and Lydia would be receiving medals one way or another.

“I think that’s the highest performance score I’ve ever seen,” Laura said.

“It might be a new record,” Scott agreed excitedly, as they sat back down.

The next pair skated onto the ice to applause, but when their music started, something exciting and fun to get the crowd going, the contrast was jarring. Derek couldn’t see how their performance score would benefit.

They placed a point and a half behind the Stilinskis.

Four minutes later, and Stiles and Lydia had been overtaken by the Canadians, which Derek tried and failed not to get too mad about.

“They were skating to show tunes, Laura,” he complained.

“Sweetie, I know that’s your pet peeve, but you can’t let the media hear you say that. Besides, your boyfriend’s about to receive his second Olympic medal,” she told him.

Derek grinned. Maybe it was selfish, but it was all over. They would stick around to watch Allison skate the next two days, practice for the gala, maybe watch some other sports, and then attend the Closing Ceremony, but now they were free to be together and as distracted as they wanted.

He caught Stiles in his arms when they met after the medal ceremony, kissing him for probably too long to be appropriate, and most likely getting a number of pictures taken of them in the meantime. “You made me cry,” he whispered in his ear.

“Yeah?” Stiles smiled, “I think we made everyone cry.”

“You make me smile too,” Derek added, tracing the medal around Stiles’s neck with a finger before running it up the strap.

“I make a lot of people smile,” Stiles teased.

Derek’s fingers found Stiles’s jaw, where they really wanted to be, and caressed it softly. “Yeah, well you’re making me fall in love with you too, so –“

“I am?” Stiles gasped, taking both of his hands, but not moving them from his face, “You are? I mean – “

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek sighed, “I kind of like you a lot.”

Stiles grinned beautifully, blindingly. “Me too,” he said, and kissed Derek again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of the music mentioned and quoted is from Teen Wolf, and I'll give you the titles and artists below. It was important in my head that you know which music they were skating to, but I'm not sure if it's awkward to try and stick it in with the writing (I usually hate when people do that, but here I am), so let me know what you think.
> 
> Music is:  
> Start of Time by Gabrielle Aplin  
> Not Just a Girl by She Wants Revenge  
> Find My Way Back by Eric Arjes  
> You Were Never Gone by Hannah Ellis


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the end of the last chapter felt very final, so I decided I would just leave it there with a short epilogue to sum up where they're going. I realize this means that I'm kind of leaving out the ladies' event, the gala, and the Closing Ceremony, but if I can, I'll try and find a way to stick those back in when I go through and edit, which I will probably start doing next week (all of my other fics kind of got set on the back burner for the last week or two, so I need to get on top of those before I can come back and edit this).
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for all of your comments, kudos, bookmarks, and patience! This was such a whirlwind of a fic, but I hope it was worth it :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Derek sat at the airport gate with Stiles, Scott, and Lydia. Miraculously, he had ended up on the same flight as them. Scott was bobbing his head to inaudible music, reading Lydia’s copy of Cosmo over her shoulder. Stiles and Derek were across from them, Derek with his head in Stiles’s lap, legs bent up on the seat next to him, trying really hard not to fall asleep as Stiles carded his fingers through his hair.

“Derek, look,” Stiles twisted his phone down towards Derek’s face so that he could see the Instagram feed that he was scrolling through, “Remember that? That was only like two weeks ago.”

It was Stiles and Derek, surrounded by Team USA as they walked in the Opening Ceremony.

“ _Now boarding Japanese Airline flight 2 to San Francisco._ ”

Derek sat up, kissing Stiles on the way, as the people around them started shuffling their things together. “I can’t believe it’s only been that long,” he glanced at the picture again before Stiles put his phone away. “We looked happy though.”

Stiles laced his fingers through Derek’s and nudged Scott with his foot. “I’m happier now, though,” he told Derek, smiling.

“Me too,” Derek agreed.

“Are we leaving?” Scott asked, pulling his headphones down around his neck.

“Yeah, dude, let’s go! Olympic medalists get first class!” Stiles told him.

“It’s about time,” Lydia teased, falling into step on the other side of Stiles as they crossed the waiting area towards the check in desk.

Scott drew up alongside Derek. “I can’t believe you’re coming back to Beacon Hills to coach me,” he said, “I mean, there have to be other places where you could coach more skaters, right?”

“If they want me to coach them, they can come to me,” Derek told him, “But you’re the one I want to coach.”

“Yeah,” Scott agreed with a sly smile, “And it doesn’t hurt that you get to live near Stiles too, huh?”

“No,” Derek agreed, squeezing Stiles’s hand, “I think I got a pretty good deal. Maybe I should have retired earlier.”

“If you retired earlier, I would never have made you talk to me,” Stiles reminded him.

“Right. I guess I’ll just have to settle, then,” he smiled at Stiles, who kissed the corner of his mouth.

“May I see your boarding pass, sir?”

Stiles let go of his hand, to dig out his boarding pass. Derek’s hand felt cold with the loss, but it was okay. They wouldn’t be apart for long.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the shitty summary and the shitty ending to this chapter. I'll fix both as soon as I get a chance :)


End file.
